Lorinda thrust her arm deep into the opening. “It’s here all right!” she exclaimed.
From the safe she drew forth a bowl-shaped drum, perhaps eight inches in diameter at the opening. An animal skin was stretched over the framework and the sides were decorated with symbols.
“This probably is my stepfather’s most valuable trophy,” Lorinda declared. “He treasures it above all else, because there is no other exactly like it. But the drum never should have been taken from the native tribe.”
With her fingers, the girl tapped out a rhythm on the drum. The first three notes were slow and heavy, with a series of triplets coming as a light splutter at the end.
. . . ... . . . ...
. . . ... . . . ...
Penny, who had a keen sense of the ludicrous, began to sway to the jungle rhythm. Lorinda drummed with more energy, and they both burst into laughter.
But suddenly for no apparent reason, the mirth died from Lorinda’s lips and abruptly she ended the tapping.
Tossing the Zudi drum into the wall safe, she closed the heavy door and spun the dials. With another swift movement, she swung the picture into place.
Penny started to speak, but a significant glance from her companion served as a warning to remain silent.